


Snacks From Hell's Kitchen (Drabble Collection)

by chaya



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: BDSM, College, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miscellaneous Daredevil drabbles (Daredrabbles? Drabdevils?). Mostly Matt/Foggy. Includes but is not limited to: smut, smut involving BDSM, UST, angst, fluff... basically, standard fare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lies Prompt

 

 

> "[A list of all the things Foggy realized he didn't get away with after finding out what Matt was capable of.](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119648718691/for-daredevil-prompts-a-list-of-all-the-things)" (I wrote an abbreviated list.)[  
>  ](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119647497821/femme-werewolf-replied-to-your-post-daredevil)

 

“You didn’t chew him out, did you?”

Foggy doesn’t look up from his textbook. “I promised you I wouldn’t.”

“That’s not an answer,” Matt points out. His mouth is slanted, in that sad tilt he gets when he thinks Foggy’s being overprotective. “Really, that’s hardly the worst joke I’ve heard about being blind, and we’ve still got another group project with him later in the semester, so  _tell me you didn’t_ -”

“I didn’t say anything after you left. I was perfectly civil.”

**

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

Foggy’s interest is immediately piqued. He leans back in his chair, trying to get a better look at where Matt is slowly emerging from his room. He’s wearing a long sleeved shirt Foggy hasn’t seen before - a pleasant forest green, tight in the shoulders and across the chest. Not pinchy-tight, just… stretchy-tight.

Foggy still isn’t used to being able to stare without repercussion.

“…and it was a nice thought of her to send me a gift, but I’m not sure it fits.” Matt’s fingers brush uncertainly over his chest for a brief moment, then to his - oh, his hipbones. It clings to those too, right where they jut above the low-slung pajama pants Matt always wears around the dorm room. Foggy’s eyes widen. “Mind giving a second opinion?”

Foggy uses the moment he’s given for an evaluation to get his throat to widen up enough to make normal human sounds.

“Not too tight,” Foggy says.

**

Matt makes a long groaning sound from the other side of the room. Foggy peers over to where Matt’s fingertips are gliding over the braille USB keyboard.

“Please tell me you didn’t just see our grade for the caselaw project.”

“No,” Matt says. “Reynolds sent another assignment as a PDF.”

“…what?”

“It must be scanned out of a book. Can you -” Matt winces. “Would you mind coming to look?”

Foggy still hasn’t worked out how to get Matt to stop feeling like helping him with little things like this is some kind of chore. He gets out of his chair, crossing the room and looking over Matt’s shoulder at the laptop screen. Shit.

“How many times have you asked him not to do this?”

“Twice,” Matt mumbles. “His email didn’t include the book or page number. If you give me that I can look up -”

“No, it’s some old newspaper clipping. Let me…” Foggy leans forward, close enough to feel Matt’s breath on his shoulder, and uses the down key to scroll through the pages. “This is a mess. No year, no publication title.”

Matt makes another quiet defeated sound.

“I can read it to you?”

Foggy feels more than sees Matt lean back in surprise. “Don’t, um.” Matt swallows. “Don’t you have to finish the that language packet thing for tomorrow?” He sounds concerned but hopeful.

“She pushed the due date back,” Foggy says confidently. “I’ve got time.”


	2. Experimentation Prompt

> "[Matt/Foggy, experimenting with their sexuality in college.](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119647497821/femme-werewolf-replied-to-your-post-daredevil)" (EXPLICIT)

 

“I don’t know what that face means,” Foggy admits after a few moments.

Matt doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s still chewing on his lower lip, either holding his breath to keep back a good sound or a bad sound, and Foggy can’t tell which. The soft hum of the plug - or the vibrator? It’s shaped like a plug but it vibrates, is it a vibrating butt plug? Why didn’t Foggy pay more attention to the packaging? - is a constant, almost calming drone, like the box fan in the window.

“Matt?”

Matt makes a questioning sound, finally. It sounds a little impatient, like he was busy with something. Foggy climbs on top of him, straddling one perfectly toned thigh to rub at Matt’s crossed wrists that are trembling above his head. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on them.

“Buddy, was this a bad idea? Do you wanna stop?”

Matt tilts his head to the side and pants. “S’good,” he says finally, way more breathless than Foggy would have expected. “Can, um,”

“I can turn it to a lower setting, it’s got a-”

“ _No_.” Matt’s face goes pink, embarrassed at how emphatic he just said that. “Can. CanIsuckyouoffwhileit’sinme?”

It takes a second for Foggy to parse that.


	3. Cinnamon Roll Prompt

> "[something involving cinnamon rolls… and possibly licking frosting off each other’s fingers.](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119726564391/sonickitty-answered-your-post-prompts-something)"

 

“I don’t understand how these are new to you.”

Matt shrugs his shoulders, turning the spiralled-open can in his hands over and over, examining the texture. “I mean, the nuns didn’t exactly love modern junk food. I always heard the commercials on tv for the crescent rolls, but these are…”

“Cinnamon rolls,” Foggy supplies helpfully. “Better.”

“They definitely  _smell_  good,” Matt agrees. He walks toward the trash can, stepping carefully to open it before dropping the empty container in. Foggy watches, still kind of impressed by how easily Matt does that. (And everything else.) “How long ‘til they’re done?” He gestures in the general area of the top of the oven, where the clock is.

“Two minutes.” Foggy had considered buying a wind-up timer that Matt would be able to more or less read by feel until realizing that the ticking would probably drive him insane before any meal was finished. “How much frosting do you want on yours?”

Matt’s eyebrows rise up. “Oh, I get one?”

“ _One?_ ” Foggy laughs. “Dude, we  _both_  survived that final. There’s six in there and you get three.”

**

“You’ve still got some frosting at the corner of your mouth.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt seems to be busy experiencing one of his first junk food comas as an adult, sort of deliriously full and content, and that precludes the possibility of getting up to find a napkin. Foggy sets his beer down and waits a few moments, finally losing his patience.

“Dude, just lick it clean. Hell,  _I’ll lick it clean for you_.”

The words, which sort of escaped unbidden in the first place, hang in the air for a painfully long amount of time. Finally, slowly, Matt’s eyebrows rise again.


	4. Meme Prompt & Punch Prompt

> "[imagine Foggy laughs at something on his computer, and Matt asks what he's laughing at, and Foggy has to explain a meme to him](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119002855946/imagine-foggy-laughs-at-something-on-his-computer)"

 

“It’s a really chubby cat, and he’s like… staring intently at something.”

“Okay,” Matt says patiently.

“And the text at the bottom is ‘breathing heavily’ and it, it just.” Foggy gasps for some more air, valiantly trying to balance his need to breathe through the laughter and his desire to explain to Matt what’s so fucking funny.

“This cat’s expression… really matches the caption,” Matt hazards.

“ _Yes_.”

 

* * *

> "[Matt tries to teach Foggy how to throw a proper punch.](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119727450561/starsandatoms-answered-your-question-prompts-matt)"

 

“Start with the tips of your fingers and curl them in. Make as tight a fist as you possibly can.”

Foggy looks down at his right hand, which is being more or less held in both of Matt’s. Feeling his face heat up and hoping that can get chalked up to nerves or something, he starts curling, slowly, watching Matt’s face as he does so.

“Good,” Matt says as soon as he’s done. “Now, when you aim for someone, you want this to be your point of impact.” He pulls his right hand out from under Foggy’s hand to trace the knuckle of his pointer and middle finger. “The center of your four fingers isn’t the center of your hit, okay? It’s between these two.” He straightens Foggy’s fist out and traces a straight line down his forearm, illustrating the line of impact.

“So I don’t fuck up my wrist,” Foggy guesses.

“Or your hand.” Matt takes his away and Foggy realizes with a bit of horror that Matt’s left a trail of gooseflesh up his forearm, prickling, heating up from the brief contact. Matt’s face is already shifting. He  _has_  to have noticed. “Are you okay? Are you nervous about this?”

“I haven’t fought in a long time,” Foggy says quickly. “I mean, there were those guys with the bat, but, but I had a bat. That time.”

“It’ll be good for you to know how to fight without a weapon. Just in case.”

Foggy has no idea how he’s going to survive this.


	5. Sub!Matt Prompt

 

> [Someone asked for Sub!Matt](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119730727931/sub-mat-idk-with-who-but-sub-mat-is-love-3). [It ended up being two posts.](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119733823486/sub-mat-idk-with-who-but-sub-mat-is-love-3)

 

The out-of-season scarf makes sense when Matt finally takes it off, arranging it on the coat hanger before making a straight line to his room. Foggy looks at his neck - not hickeys like he’d been expecting, but faint red lines of the outline of a collar - and puts a few things together.

**

After the third dumped girlfriend, Foggy buys the newly-single Matt a few six-packs. (Cheaper than a bar.)

“You know they have sites for it, right?”

“What?” Matt sounds convincingly innocent as his fingertips trace the curves of his bottle. It’s in the shape of a lucky Buddha. Foggy thought it might be interesting to him.

“Sites for, like, people that want certain kinds of relationships. You can plug in your info and find matches. But instead of saying you’re a Scorpio, you say you’re a s-”

“Thanks, Foggy.”

“Just trying to help.”

Matt mumbles something under his breath and folds his arms on the table, tucking his chin down and slumping.

“What?”

“I said … never mind.”

“C’mon, man, you know there’s no judgement.”

A few moments pass. “I said it’s not that  _simple_ ,” Matt says finally. He’s got that tone that means he doesn’t want to say anything else about it, like with certain church things and most things about his dad.

Foggy’s learned over time that he’s allowed to try to fill in the gaps, so he does his best. “Because there’s lots of… types?” He says. “It’s not just, um, a one-size-fits-all situation, she’s gotta…”

“ _Yeah_.”

“So what’ve they been doing wrong?”

Matt’s cheeks, barely visible over his biceps now that he’s sinking further down in tipsiness and self-consciousness, are intensely pink.

“Fine.” Foggy shrugs his shoulders. “I just shrugged. You know, I dated this one girl in high school, and she was… she was so out of my league, man, you should’ve seen her. I mean, you know what I mean. She always wore these really high heels, her ass looked amazing in them, really thick thighs and this wicked smile… but she made this sound when she was, um, when she was coming.” He looks over and checks to make sure Matt looks interested and not grossed out. “It was like Fran Drescher.”

“Like…”

“ _Ehhhhhh_ ,” Foggy says, drawing a surprised bark of laughter out of his friend. Encouraged, he does it again, leaning in a little to make it more uncomfortable, making Matt lean away and out of the shield of his arms. “ _Ehhh. Ehh. Ehhhhh_.”

“That poor girl.”

“I’m sure she found someone,” Foggy says, leaning back toward the dinky little table and picking his drink back up again. Examining it, considering another sip. “She wasn’t mean or anything, but. I just couldn’t get past that one thing. Had to break it off.”

Matt nods, chewing over this, working up to sharing in return as Foggy had hoped. “There’s,” he says, and then stops again, thinking, and Foggy practically holds his breath while Matt gets his thoughts together. “There’s a lot of ways… to be.”

“Right,” Foggy says, as if he has any idea where that vague statement is going.

“And I… you know, it’s not, it’s not like they’re  _wrong_ , or, or not… I mean, any way you want to be, or any way you are, that’s valid.”

“Of course,” Foggy agrees. Matt gestures in the air, but he seems stuck. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean that it works for you,” he provides, and Matt nods vigorously.

“Right!” Matt says.

“And it’s… you don’t want to sound critical,” Foggy fishes.

“ _Right_ ,” Matt says again.

“You won’t hurt  _my_  feelings,” Foggy points out.

Matt blinks behind his glasses. “Huh?”

“I mean, I’m not the one fucking up, so go on, vent to me.” He guesses the obstacle. “It’s not like you’re being an asshole and bragging about them. You don’t even have to tell me which is which. You’re just sharing your problems.”

“You’ve got a bright career ahead of you,” Matt murmurs, smirking.

Foggy doesn’t stop to accept the compliment, feeling like he’s close now. “Or if you don’t feel right complaining about what you’ve gotten, vent about what you wish you could get.”

Matt pauses. 

Foggy holds his breath again.

“It’s just,” Matt says, and then starts again. “I’m not…  _delicate_. It’s okay to, you know,” and Matt gestures inarticulately and Foggy nods furiously in understanding before remembering and saying,

“Of course.”

“Right,” Matt says, leaning back a little too far in his chair and wobbling for a moment. “It’s okay to…” And he trails off again.

“Of course it is.”

“Yeah!” Matt sighs. “And I  _want_  them to.” He takes another pull of his drink. “I mean, I’ll  _take orders_ , but if all you’re ordering me to do is take my clothes off and  _maybe_  yours and then, you know, get on top of you, then that’s not really…”

“Much of anything,” Foggy finishes, trying desperately to catalog these details while also maintaining the air of someone who’s not hormonally invested.

“It’s  _nothing,_ ” Matt laments. “Nobody feels ‘okay’ getting rough with me, or they feel ‘mean’, and I can’t… there’s nobody that can get past…”

 _They look at you and they see a disabled person_ , Foggy finishes, but this time he doesn’t say anything. Matt trails off again, making an irritated noise this time, and finishes his drink. It’s only his second one, and Foggy’s just on his third, but this conversation suddenly feels really heavy.

“There’s not  _nobody_  who can do it,” Foggy says finally.

“I’m telling you. Everyone talks a great game until they’re in bed, and suddenly they… they need to be  _gentle_ , need to check in for everything, and it’s like… just stop, just stop obsessing over it! And stop getting defensive over the fact that you’re obsessing! It doesn’t matter in this context, it’s not important…” Matt seems to realize that he is, in fact, complaining just as he said he wouldn’t, and lapses into silence again. “It’s like, nobody can manage to get past it.”

“Someone can,” Foggy repeats.

“How do you know?”

“Because,” Foggy says, and realizes that the only answer is risky, but that third drink has loosened his tongue just a little too much for his brain to keep it in check fast enough, “if  _I_  were dating you, and you said you wanted me to get rough with you, I’d totally do it. I’d pull your hair or put my hands around your throat or, I mean, I don’t, I don’t actually know what you want, but I’d trust  _you_  to know what you want, and, you know, tell me, so, uh, so I could do it.” He stares at the far wall and tries to figure out how to reel this back in. “So, I mean,” he fumbles for the bottle cap on the table and starts to fiddle with it. “I’m just saying, I’m sure you can find…” When he checks to see Matt’s reaction so far, he can’t quite make sense of how red Matt’s gotten. “Um, did I say something wrong?”

**

When Foggy’s breath is back, he rolls onto his side, curling his arm around Matt’s body just as Matt pushes himself up on his elbows, beginning to slide away toward the bathroom.

“Hey, don’t go yet.”

“I don’t need,” Matt says, awkwardly, “…this part.”

Foggy frowns. “Matt,” he says sharply, with his brand new In Charge voice. “Lay down.”

Matt’s expression indicates he dislikes this use of Foggy’s new power, but finally he lays back down, head on the pillow and arms at his sides. Foggy scooches closer and starts to slide his hand up and down Matt’s side, then his chest, taking his time of it. Matt’s tense under him for the first few moments, but after a while something seems to change and he loosens up. Foggy finds a few spots that get contented huffs - his waist, his biceps, his jawline. Foggy makes mental notes as he keeps petting.

“See,” he says after a few minutes, when Matt’s nearly fallen asleep. “Aftercare’s not so bad.”

Matt makes a small noise. “S’fine when  _you_  do it,” he allows. He can probably feel Foggy’s smile against his shoulder.


	6. Hair Prompt

 

> "[Matt playing with Foggy's hair.](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/119735268691/prompt-matt-playing-with-foggys-hair-please)"

 

Foggy’s been using the ‘how’s my hair?’ line when preparing for a date since he was about fourteen, and it turns out it’s even funnier with Matt as his roommate.

“It’s perfect,” Matt answers, with an exaggerated thumbs-up and a grin, and after a beat they break character more or less at the same time, laughing. When Foggy is finally out the door to meet Marci, he’s got a ridiculous sort of spring in his step.

**

**

Years later, the truth-bomb-inspired drinking session, drinks courtesy Matt and Foggy since Karen is still mad at being the last to know, turns into an impromptu confessional.

“I had a friend in high school who wore these hideous berets,” Karen says, scraping the bottom of the barrel now. “We liked the same guy, so I always told her they looked cute.”

Foggy grimaces. “Were they black?”

“No, they were like…” Karen makes a face. “Flower… print.”

“Sounds bad,” Matt agrees. Karen slides the bottle over until it nudges Matt’s thigh, so he picks it up, sipping for his turn and trying to think of something else to get off his chest. “Oh.” He smirks and tilts his head in Foggy’s direction. “Foggy, I never knew how your hair looked.”

Foggy lurches forward, snorting loudly and accidentally toppling over a few empty bottles. Matt giggles as Karen starts picking up the empties before they roll under a desk.

“Is this an inside joke?” She asks.

“I used to,” Foggy pants, and then swats at Matt when he notices Matt is making a comically remorseful face. “I used to ask him how I looked before I’d go see, see Marci or whoever… I’d ask him how my hair was.”

“Oh,” Karen says, and then laughs, realizing that Matt’s confession was in fact worthless like she suspected.

“I’m making this right,” Matt declares. “Foggy, get over here.”

Foggy looks at the space between them, him sprawled out on the office floor, Matt leaning against the wall. “What?”

Matt reaches out and gestures him over. “I’m going to tell you now. I’m going to be honest.” Karen’s laughing. “Come here. I can’t live a lie anymore.”

Karen is laughing too hard for Foggy to not follow along with the joke. He scoots forward, finally turning around and biting back the urge to tell Matt where he moved and how he’s positioned - Matt knows precisely where he is. “Be honest,” Foggy says, and is weirdly surprised by Matt’s touch on his scalp. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the sensation is very light. “Don’t hold anything back.”

“I won’t,” Matt promises. His fingers are brushing the ends of Foggy’s hair, back up, making a point of being very thorough.

“Actually, that’s kind of nice.” Foggy grins when Karen starts giggling again, encouraged. “Take your time, buddy, really get in there. Do you know how to French braid?”

“Careful what you ask for. It’s not that different from tying rope.”

“Rope doesn’t have a sensitive scalp.”

“I’ll be gentle.” The pads of Matt’s fingers feel amazing, actually, digging in forward and then stroking back, making an already-wobbly position wobblier as Foggy finally leans back on his elbows to brace himself and really take the massage. Karen has lapsed into silence. Foggy tries to think of how to continue receiving these head-rubs.

“Karen,” he says finally, “you are not allowed to pull your camera out right now.”

“I’ll know if she does,” Matt assures him, and starts doing something that feels distinctly like sectioning off bits of hair at the back.


	7. Foggy's Body Prompt

 

> [zet asked for matt/foggy with focus on foggy's body.](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/124976211666/zetsubonna-answered-your-post-daredevil-prompts)

 

“You know,” Foggy says, after the first time they’ve made out under the dim light of the streetlight outside their dorm room window, “I was sorta worried you’d change your mind after you… felt me.”

Matt makes a slightly sleepy confused noise, uncurling a little from his side of the tiny bed. The best Foggy can figure is now that Matt’s figured out Foggy’s fine with taking it slow, some of the tension has melted out of his shoulders. (Experimentally, Foggy reaches over and kneads his fingers into one shoulder. Yep. Nice and relaxed.)

“I mean,” Foggy says, and gestures with his free hand in one of those nonverbal things he’s gotta either rid himself of or learn to narrate. “Um, because most people don’t go for…”

“I’ve always known how big you are,” Matt says matter-of-factly, and pushes his shoulder forward into Foggy’s fingers without seeming to realize it. “This dorm is ancient. The floors creak no matter who walks…” He sighs contentedly as the pads of Foggy’s fingers edge up the side of his neck, toward his hairline. “Mmm.”

“So it’s okay,” Foggy summarizes uncertainly, trying not to speculate on what will happen when or if Matt gets more handsy in the future, up his shirt or if the shirt comes off entirely and-

“Of course it is.” A line has formed between Matt’s eyebrows. “And. And it’s okay that… we don’t… immediately…?”

“You looked kinda overstimulated,” Foggy replies. “I get it. I mean, I don’t _personally_ get it, but we never have to rush anything.”

Matt makes a pleased noise that deepens into more of a hum when Foggy starts running his fingers through Matt’s hair in earnest.

“This kinda stimulation seems to be okay for you, though.” Foggy’s smile is probably evident in his tone.

Matt laughs softly and doesn’t say anything.


	8. D/S Prompt

> "[Matt not knowing how to deal because Foggy is the most praise-heavy dom to ever dom him and when Foggy finds out how happy it makes Matt, he somehow takes it up aNOTHEr notch](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/124977951206/bluandorange-answered-your-post-daredevil)"

 

Foggy almost stops and asks for Matt to give him a color, but he finally recognizes the flush to Matt’s cheeks - he’s embarrassed but pleased, definitely pleased. Foggy drags his nails along the soft skin of Matt’s throat and decides to keep talking and see what else sticks.

“Love touching you like this, you look so good…” Foggy chuckles when Matt rolls onto his side a little to nuzzle closer to Foggy, wordless, smiling just a little. Foggy watches as Matt’s nipples tighten when one of them drags against the fabric of Foggy’s jeans. “Better than good, actually, I’m really doing you a disservice by using the word ‘good’.”

Matt hides his expression by nosing thin cotton of Foggy’s t-shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, I know you don’t wanna talk.” Foggy presses his nails in a little deeper when he scratches up the back of Matt’s neck, over the ridges of bone. “You wanna take off the rest of your clothes for me? Let me see how excited you are already?”

Without moving too far away from Foggy’s touch, Matt immediately lifts his hips and reaches for his fly with both hands.

“Hey, slow down. I bet you can put on a good show if you put your mind to it.”

Matt doesn’t seem to know exactly how to respond to that, eyes tracking uncertainly somewhere past Foggy’s shoulder… but his hands do still, and when they finally move again, they’re slower, hips rising just a few inches as he begins to tug at the button of his jeans. Foggy watches and feels like he could die happy.

Foggy rubs soft little circles underneath Matt’s right ear. “God, Matt, your hipbones.”

The sight of the denim dragging across them, accenting how they jut out just so - Foggy groans a little as Matt cants his hips up, defining them even more as he unzips his pants and starts to expose more skin.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Matt looks pleased with his work. The gentle slant to his mouth turns a little mischievous, and he arches his body a little higher, contorting to make sure he doesn’t accidentally move away from Foggy’s touch. His abdomen and pectorals flex pleasantly, just for Foggy, and damn if it doesn’t make him even harder. Foggy digs his nails in and swipes them down to Matt’s collarbone, one of those sharp, light jolts of pain he loves, and Matt makes a small surprised noise as his hips stutter mid-air. Matt’s erection is dragging against the elastic of his boxers and when it finally springs free, Foggy’s mouth actually feels like it might be watering.

“If law doesn’t end up working out for you, you could definitely make a mint running a webcam show.”

With an amused little chuckle, Matt pulls his jeans the rest of the way off and turns back onto his side so he can press himself to Foggy again. The huff of contented breath feels warm through Foggy’s shirt.


	9. Whoops No Prompt

> confession: [nobody asked for this one](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/125052331221/after-a-few-weeks-of-being-matts-roommate-foggy)

 

After a few weeks of being Matt’s roommate, Foggy starts picking up on how Matt describes people by stuff Foggy himself wouldn’t notice - perfumes, aftershaves, little verbal tics and regionalisms. It makes sense! That stuff probably makes way more of an impression when you aren’t looking at a person.

But it kinda makes Foggy wonder what  _he_  … seems? Seems like? To someone who can’t see, and after seeing how Matt gets headaches from the cigarette smoke coming in if the windows are left open, and how he always shuts the vents the minute a  _hint_  of pot smoke starts seeping in through them, Foggy starts looking into smell sensitivities and it’s hard, because, like, a lot of the stuff on soaps and air fresheners and things seem to be founded on ambiguous carcinogen studies and stuff, but finally he finds stuff on people who  _just - do - not - like - strong - smells_  and there are some brands recommended, and, really, Foggy’s been using the same brands since he was like, twelve, so it’s probably time to switch it up. (Plus, if he tries one of these things recommended online he doesn’t have to try buying what Matt has in the shower, which would put him at risk for seeming like one of those creepy roommates that try to become you.)

So it’s moisturizing and unscented and kind of expensive? But it came with shampoo and conditioner too, and Foggy should probably be using conditioner sometimes now that his hair is long again after the last locks donation, and when he comes out of the shower he feels weirdly let down that Matt doesn’t, like, say anything, or seem to notice, but after a poured bowl of cereal and a few bites Matt gets up to pack his bag for the day and then sits back down to finish his coffee, which has cooled a little, and when he breathes in deeply he stops short like something’s missing or out of place, and Foggy fiddles with his spoon and says,

“Better or worse?”

“What? Um.” Matt looks really embarrassed for some reason. “Did you. Did you change…?”

“Yeah,” Foggy confirms.

“Oh.” Matt nods. “Better, I think. Not - not that you smelled bad before!”

Foggy laughs.

“Um. The musky scents are usually really fake-smelling? This one’s actually nice. Subtle.”

Foggy frowns. “I thought I got the unscented one.”

Matt stands up too quickly. “I’m gonna miss my lecture.”


End file.
